Luncheon With Logan
by MidLifeCrisis
Summary: One shot. Who says the way to a mans heart is through his stomach? Ladies, grab a glass of wine, a quiet corner and indulge those Wolverine fantasies.


** Disclaimer:** Marvel owns Logan.

**Author's Note:** **One more warning.** This is adult themed** sexually explicit** though not violent or hurtful because the protags are involved in a loving, committed relationship.

**LUNCHEON WITH LOGAN**

**- or-**

**Whoever said the way to a man's heart was through his stomach?**

"Hey, you know I love you," I wrap my arms around his middle,"little flaws and all."

He flexes those massive biceps, puffs up his pecs, "Flaws?" His affront is fake, "Got your arms around hundred and ten percent perfection, woman."

My grasp slips lower. Groping posterior perfection, I nibble his lower lip, "Mmm-hmm," and grind my hips into his.

"Don't do that unless you mean business," he growls, his arms encircling me, one hand pressing into the small of my back.

Tracing his lips with my tongue, "Later lover," I tease thinking more about returning pages, charting I've let go far too long, a myriad of tedious tasks.

"Nah ah, darlin'," he says and forces my lips with his demanding tongue.

"What do you think your doing?" I purr as his lips sear a path over my neck.

His breath tickles my ear. "Seein' what I can get away with." His hand encircles my breast.

Whoa cowboy! I wasn't planning on this. I push back, "Logan! Are you crazy?"

"Mmm hmm," he says pulling me close. "Crazy 'bout you," he murmurs and nibbles my earlobe.

"I'll say. Quit it." Some how that doesn't come out as convincing as I'd like. By the way his hands wander up and down my back and how he punishes me with that luscious mouth of his, he's not convinced either. Oh Lord! What am I going to do? "I've—got afternoon clinic."

"In an hour," he counters, tasting my neck.

My mind's telling me this is a foolish idea. I'm a responsible adult. Adults don't behave this way. B S they don't Sassy-Girl. Admit it; he's pushing your buttons and you like it.

Quickies are so much more trouble than they're worth. He gets off and I end up with wet panties and a whole lotta frustration. Oh, damn the wet panties! The tingling thighs, the ache in your breasts feels so good. You want it. You want him.

I've got so much to do and I'm so far behind. Pish! Once I get stuff done there's always more.

We might get caught. Yes, that would be embarrassing. Oh come on! It's no secret around here we're a couple.

Nuzzling, his hot breath filters through my blouse and bra, setting my breasts aflame. "Aahh, oohh," I gasp. He just pressed my no return button. "You know, this is breaking a hard… " my fingers explore the huge bulge in his jeans, "…and fast rule of mine."

He groans, "What's that darlin?" before devouring my mouth.

Breathless, I reply, "I forgot."

"Lock the door," he murmurs between showering kisses over my breasts.

Parting for a second, I flip the lock. Leaning against the door I rake him over: So damn arrogant, powerful, virile; an irresistible sex deity. Screw my rules! I dive into his arms.

Our mouths lock in combustible passion. Roving hands under my skirt ignite a fire between my legs.

Tugging loose his shirt, I raise goose bumps raking my hands up his back and chest. Grabbing taut glutei, I pull him tight to me.

With a lusty growl, he grabs me 'round the hips and lifts me off the floor. I wrap my legs around his waist, my arms around his neck. Feeling him press against my crotch, I'm getting damp. He carries me to the closest examining room. "My turn to play doctor," he says with a suggestive wiggle of his brows. I can't suppress a laugh.

Caught in the surge of reckless passion, we tear at each other. Quick work he makes of my blouse and bra. I moan far too loudly when his tongue laves my hard, aching nipples.

Wrestling with his belt, "Damn, stupid redneck buckle," I curse under my breath. Slowly, carefully I ease his zipper down and slip his jeans below his hips. Oh my god! He is exquisite. It thrills me to stroke his throbbing man muscle. If this relationship fizzles, I ruined for life. No man will ever measure up.

Skilled hands travel sensuously over my flesh, teasing my secret places. His touch, smooth as satin, fans the flame of desire and I flush in anticipation. Unexpectedly he pauses. Warm fingers slide between fabric and flesh and I hear the 'shish' of a claw unsheathing.

"Don't you dare cut my underwear," I warn between lip locks.

He growls, ravishes my mouth and adroitly slips them down my legs. Blue satin and lace puddle on the floor, easily forgotten as sensuous fingers dip into my juices and begin to polish my pearl.

Indescribable warmth radiates through my core as his caress heightens an over powering yearning to merge. "Want you," I moan and coax him to me. God, for more time! I ache to feel his tongue on my jewel.

Reaching, I take hold and stroke him. Wanting more, I anoint myself with his precious fluid. So smooth, hard and hot, I must have him. Angling my hips, I gasp, "Please!"

"Not yet." He kisses my knee; then the other. Kneeling, his lips journey leisurely the length of my thighs. Taking it between his lips and tongue, first ever so lightly, my bud blossoms like a flower.

Falling back onto the table, warmth becomes heat. My legs tremble. My pelvis rockets off the table, jettisoning any remaining inhibitions into the cosmos. My body beseeches to welcome him inside, "Logan! Oh please, now." He knows better and continues to feast like a hungry animal.

Suddenly, awareness turns inward. Time seems to expand and contract concurrently. I'm on the edge. I'm falling. I'm overcome by wave upon wave of rapture. Groaning loudly, startling myself, my legs close around his head. He doesn't stop and I come again and again. Just when I think I can't give any more, he growls lustfully and pulls back.

I look into his eyes, blazing with raw desire. His lips curve into an anticipating leer. His chin's coated with my nectar. Primed, his rod throbs and weeps with need.

Grabbing my buttocks, holding me captive, he pushes in slowly, as far as he can go. Holding there, I feel every solid bit of him. Tantalizingly, he retreats and advances —over and over; again filling my senses to overflowing.

Wrapping my legs around his waist and bracing my arms against the table, I feel my innards close around him like a vice. I'm beyond intelligible verbalization.

Grasping my shoulders for balance, his head whips back and I see his muscles grow taut. He groans, "Squeeze it woman."

I do and watch him; mesmerized by his expression, those incredible sounds he makes when he lets go. He closes his eyes, arches his back and rams into me; fast, hard, deep.

It's wild. I'm wet. He's hot. I feel every single thrust and spasm. He buries his face into my neck but I search his mouth to kiss him and taste myself. My God! Can I get any more turned on?

Oh yes; and again, I'm coming. "Oh god, yes! Logan!" Clutching him desperately, I ride the crest of feral carnality. The urge to give is as strong as the urge to get.

He comes with a roar of satisfaction, allaying any fear I have that he isn't _getting_ and believe me he's_ giving_; so much I think it'll explode out the top of my head.

Too soon, it's done but every fiber of me wants to savor this fleeting, beautiful moment. Joined as one in flesh and spirit, it's the ultimate expression of love.

Unwillingly, I return to myself, becoming aware of our thundering heart beats and ragged breath. He whispers, "I love you," into my ear.

My fingertips feather, glossy, perspiration dampened hair falling over his brow, "I love you too."

He gently caresses my cheek, traces my shoulder and collar bone then pulls away. I grip him tighter with my legs. "No. Not yet," I whisper.

Taking me into burly arms, he holds me until he's relaxed. My body reluctantly releases him. He brushes his lips against mine and I want to weep with joy and contentment.

In a gesture both tender and practical, he reaches for a wad of tissues and wipes away the obvious residue. "Don't want ya havin' the drips all afternoon," he teases and fastens his jeans.

Smoothing down my skirt, I can't help but blush and giggle. In no time were composed like nothing's happened.

"Hey you," I say as he heads for the door "Better wipe that grin off your face. Somebody's liable to think you're a friendly, likable kind o'guy."

He knits his brow and snorts, "Damn! Can't have that, can we?" His scowl lasts all of five seconds. With a playful sparkle in his eyes he displays my under panties.

"Tsk! Gimme those," I giggle.

"Come and get 'em," he teases and hold them high, out of my reach.

I tickle his ribs, "Brat!"

Terminally ticklish, he dodges, "Ok, ok. I'll let ya win this one, darlin'." He laughs and hands them over.

"Hah!" I exclaim and shove him out the door with a swat on his backside and you'll never guess who's coming down the corridor.

"Logan. What the hell have you been up to?" demands Mister Micro Manager himself, also known as Scott Summers.

With absolute calm, point-blank clarity my man replies, "Havin' sex with my woman."

Scott, accustomed to Logan's rude, chain jerking comebacks, pay no heed. "Right. Don't forget grades are due in this afternoon. Three thirty, Logan."

Then, I have absolutely no idea what got into me and I probably lost points with Scott but I didn't care--much. Grinning ear to ear, I dangle my panties.

His jaw hits the floor and his brows get lost in his forehead. I miss most of his mumblings as he turns tail and runs in the opposite direction. I do hear something about… this is a school… not a whorehouse…proper time and place.

For a split second I fear Logan might blow a gasket over the whorehouse comment. Instead, he slams the door and practically falls back into my office, "Suzie, that was freakin' priceless!" he laughs.

"It was," I boast. "Poor Scott, we've insulted his sensibilities." My sympathy's false. "I don't know what got into me," I grin wickedly. "Guess the devil made me do it."

We laugh in until tears run down our cheeks and our belly's ache.


End file.
